


shot outta hell like a bullet from a gun

by notthebigspoon



Series: Dirty Hands [1]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People like talking about Ryan's story, how he spent so many years criss crossing the United States and then crossed the Pacific Ocean, chasing after that dream and never giving up. They make it sound beautiful, romantic, like something fit for a movie. Maybe it is, he wouldn't know. People like that kind of shit, the unappreciated and unsung hero finally given a chance and excelling beyond anyone else's expectations. He scowls and takes another drink of his whiskey.</p><p>	They don't know <i>shit</i>.</p><p>Title taken from Creepin' by Eric Church.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shot outta hell like a bullet from a gun

People like talking about Ryan's story, how he spent so many years criss crossing the United States and then crossed the Pacific Ocean, chasing after that dream and never giving up. They make it sound beautiful, romantic, like something fit for a movie. Maybe it is, he wouldn't know. People like that kind of shit, the unappreciated and unsung hero finally given a chance and excelling beyond anyone else's expectations. He scowls and takes another drink of his whiskey.

They don't know shit.

It's not that he doesn't appreciate the fans. It's great to be wanted and he's proud of what he helped make happen. But the stories... all the talk about him, he's so tired of it. It's all such bullshit. He had smiled through everything but now that the parade and city hall and everything else is over, he's done. He'd went and found a bar, quiet and out of the way. He kept his hat down and didn't look at people, just ordered a glass and drank steadily, staring at his phone.

The background is a picture of the son that he never gets to see, that he only gets pictures of every other month or so. It amazes him how big Ryder's gotten as time goes by. Every time Ryan gets a new set, he gets shitfaced and destroys something because he can't be there, he's missing out on everything but he can't be mad at Nicole, can't fault her a single bit because he brought this on himself. He was too dangerous for his son, too dangerous for her. He didn't deserve a wife and he didn't deserve a child.

He stares at the liquid in his glass and thinks of all the things that he's stolen and what he did to steal those things. The things he's bought and sold to keep himself going, the services he's contracted out when baseball just wasn't enough. He thinks of his last job in Japan, how he'd recruited help to steal a vase and how his partner had betrayed him. He remembers the ringing of the gun when he shot the partner's partner. He remembers the way that the partner had screamed when Ryan had punched him and then shoved him off the roof. 

Ryan still doesn't know if he died that day or not. He'd left for the US the next day.

He's mostly toed the straight and narrow since getting back into the majors. The Giants have done a lot for him the second time around. Sometimes he struggles and sometimes he doesn't. He still wants to tear the world apart every time Bochy takes him out of a game. But he's satisfied, for the most part. He wouldn't go so far as to say happy because he never really knows if he's happy or not. He smiles, he laughs, but in the grand scheme of things, he just doesn't think he's happy.

On his second glass of whiskey, he thinks of the supplies he keeps in a storage locker in a bad neighborhood and all the shiny things in this down that he could take, the kind of trouble that he could get into if he took a notion to return to his past. Sometimes, he really does consider it. He drains off his whiskey, pays his tab before heading out onto the streets. He takes a long and winding route to the storage locker, taking wrong turns and doubling back, an old habit to make sure he hasn't been followed.

At the locker, he finds his favorite guns, cleans and loads them before grabbing his favorite leather gloves, Kevlar lined to keep anything sharp from slicing into him and getting in the way. He trades his series hat for a plain black one that he yanks on backwards, covering his holsters and his guns with a black wool coat. He locks the unit behind him and gets back into his car, just starts driving.

He knows where everything happens in this town. He might not be in the game anymore but he still has name and he still has contacts, still knows what happens where. He's heard of El Gato. The guy has persisted as a huge joke in Ryan's mind but tonight he's seeking the man out. El Gato always wants the best and he's been wanting Drew Sparrow for a long time. Maybe it's time they met. It's probably the worst time in the world for Ryan to do it, but he's tired and angry at the media and maybe the world and he's definitely restless without baseball to distract him.

The building is nice, bright and shiny, about what he expected because El Gato supposedly has a taste for very shiny and expensive things. Ryan wonders what his personal proclivities are. It's got to be something. There's something about everybody, something that makes them a little off base. There's nobody in this field of work that's completely sane, some of them homicidally _insane_. He ignores it and walks inside, straight past the desk and pushes a door open. There's an elevator and he meets the black suited men with an easy smile. If they know who he is, they don't care, giving him an unimpressed look and telling him that it's a private building.

Ryan just shrugs and tells them to tell El Gato that Sparrow is there to see him. They trade looks and one of them speaks into his sleeve, waiting for confirmation before nodding and pointing Ryan at the elevator, the doors sliding open. He steps inside and looks it up and down, pushes the only button. There's no indicator to tell him what floor he's on but the ride takes long enough that he thinks they go to the top of the building.

The elevator opens to what looks like the center of a room. He's right, they're on the top floor of the sky scraper, where the walls are all windows. He can see the city lights, the comfortable looking yet still clearly expensive furnishings. He doesn't see anyone ahead of him. He walks forward, looks around slowly, keeps his hands still but reminds himself that yes, his guns are still there. He turns slowly. The elevator bank is in the very center and blocks his view of the other side. He moves around it.

There's someone sitting in a chair at a desk. His head is down and he's writing something on a pad of paper. Ryan looks him over, stops with his arms crossed over his chest. He's humming something. There's something about the scene that's familiar. When he lays the pen down, he looks up at Ryan and he smiles. He shows no sign that there's anything even slightly off base about the current situation, just pleasantly gestures at one of the armchairs across from the desk.

Ryan shrugs and sits down in the chair, lets his hands drop between his knees as he calmly observes Javi Lopez and tries to match that man up with the criminal mastermind he'd expected to meet. He can't make sense of it.

“Drew Sparrow, I believe?”

“El Gato.” Ryan answers with a snort. “El Gato. The cat? Really?”

“A cat slinks, sneaks, prowls. Disappears as easily as it came.” Javi shrugs, tapping the desk. “Drew Sparrow. Interesting. Close to you but not really you. Diminutive of your middle name and a play off the translation of your last name.”

“It fit well enough. Interesting that you manage to run a set up like this. You're global.”

“So are you. And you're good. People know your work but so few know your face and those that do won't show me.” Javi says it like he's disappointed. He gives Ryan a shark like grin. “How many people have you killed to keep it that way, Vogey?”

Ryan smiles but on the inside, he's screaming and clawing at walls, wanting to get out of here because this is wrong wrong wrong. But he answers. You don't show weakness, not in front of El Gato. “If you have to ask then you don't need to know the answer.”

“Oh, I do. I really really do.” Javi answers, circling the desk and leaning back against it. “You've got me curious. Interested. And I know you, Sparrow. You know so much about me and I know so very little about you. That isn't fair at all. I think you should share a little bit. It's only fair and we know how you are about fairness.”

“Life isn't fair. Baseball isn't fair. And us, what we do definitely isn't fair, to ourselves or those around us. When did your wife leave?”

Javi shrugs but Ryan can tell that he's struck a nerve. You don't spend so much time in a clubhouse with someone without learning their mannerisms and their ticks, the things that set them going and when they're lying. There's a tightness in Javi's jaw and a vein is sticking out in his arm, telling Ryan that his fist is clenched under the other arm. Ryan smiles and stands up. The ball is in his glove, this is his show now. 

He moves closer, toe to toe with Javi, smirking and looking him up and down. “Tell me what you want, El Gato. You've wanted Drew Sparrow a long time. What do you want him for, hmm?”

“I want someone dead. And everyone knows how good Drew Sparrow is at making that happen.”

“You know my price.”

“I do. You know that I can pay it.”

“I do.”

They're looking each other in the eye, sizing each other up but Ryan already knows it's going to end in a draw. They're both very very good at what they do and they both have things to offer each other. It definitely won't be the worst deal that Ryan's ever went into. It's the most interesting one though, that's for sure. He wonders where this is going to end up and decides that he doesn't care. With the season over, he's bored out of his mind. Last winter wasn't so bad but after the thrill of the playoff and the series, he has to have something to take the edge off. He can't handle any monotony.

Well. He's going to be taking someone out for El Gato. And given the other working relationship that they share, Ryan imagines he'll be working much more closely with Javi than he usually does with his clients. He _shouldn't_ but the rules on this one are already so far out the window they might as well be in Timbuktu. He shouldn't have taken the job, they should go back to pretending that they don't exist in eachother's less than legal orbits.

They both know that's not going to be how it happens though. Because they're still looking at each other and Ryan can feel Javi's breath against his lips. He presses his body against Javi's, pins the other man to the desk and plants his hands on either side of Javi's hips. He waits for Javi to initiate the kiss, laughs into it when Javi's hand fists into his hair and then moans at the way Javi yanks his hair when he bites into Ryan's lip.

He'd passed the bed on his way to the desk and even with the windows uncovered, easily seen into with the right lens or if you're on the right building or in, hell, a helicopter, he lets Javi haul him to it. They undress each other, still trading biting kisses and when they tumble onto the bed, it's practically a fight. Neither one of them wants to back down or surrender, they both want to take it all and be the one in charge.

In the end, Javi's the one who wins. Ryan's not too bothered by it. Technically, Javi is his boss until this job has been seen through and Ryan's done this with more bosses and marks then he'll ever admit. Sometimes, you do whatever it takes to take a job to the finish line, to get out of it successful or just to get out of it alive. At least this time he wants it. He wants it badly.

So when Javi sucks him off and works him open with his fingers , he goes with it. When Javi pins him to the mattress, fucks him open with brutal thrusts, practically claiming Ryan, Ryan doesn't fight it. He just takes it, pants and moans but reminds Javi that this is still a fight, this isn't a comfort and it isn't anything for the long term. He bites and he scratches and he grips Javi hard enough to leave bruises. He's going to leave just as many marks on Javi as Javi is going to leave on him.

When they finally stop, Ryan is aching in places that he didn't know he had. Adrenaline is still surging through his veins, both from the incredible sex and the thrill of being back in the game. They're laying side by side on the bed, sheets pooled around their waists, still panting. Javi has a self satisfied look on his face that in the clubhouse Ryan would tease him about. But this isn't the clubhouse. This is a whole different world, a bad one, a dangerous one. One that Ryan has missed like hell.

So he glances to the side and quirks an eyebrow at Javi. “You know you still have to pay me right?”

“Business is business, Sparrow.”


End file.
